A brief one.
I was intending to post last night after I took a little control and had a beer anyway before bed, sufficiently in advance that I was sober by bedtime, and post a beer review. It was Thwaites brewed too, which was a nice little nod to my childhood knowledge of beer and alcohol in general (not that I drank it, I was a tee-totaller and quite vociferous about it). However, the Boy wouldn't go to sleep and so I passed out with him at some point and then woke briefly at half two in the morning to peel out of my day clothes and go back to sleep.
There's also the fall out from Tilly's night out that I know I'll want to record but not now.
A good friend sent me an e-mail about the last few entries on here that made me think. And also showed that I've been a tad unfair and unclear about Tilly. So what, it's my record, right? Well, yeah, on one level, but on another...
So, to set some parts straight:
1. The co-sleeping thing. Her timing sucked with it being the last few days of work but we both knew the time was coming. Given what we're trying to do it made sense.
2. The sofa. Sleeping there was kinda my choice after my alarm pissed Tilly off and woke the kids every morning. Tilly likes her sleep and my alarm coupled with broken nights was driving her mental, so I retired to the sofa.
3. Lack of sex. A sore point, but only for me. Tilly isn't with-holding anything, she's just not interested - breastfeeding has that effect from what I can gather, it's why it's such an effective birth control method, not because it makes people any less fecund but because it makes the woman less interested in the act, hence abstinence.
4. Tilly's views on my cross-dressing. She's in denial. She doesn't want to talk about it. It's not punishment, she just doesn't think about it. I ended up throwing out most of my wardrobe this morning - it's not like I ever wear the items I threw out these days, they're practically inaccessible, so it's no great loss - we were having an argument.
And to talk of something else.
I'm not very good at looking at myself positively. I know that I don't stand a chance of passing as a female. Part of me wishes that I could but the rest of me knows that this is a forlorn hope. My best 'feminine' feature, so far as I know, are my legs. But this is according to Toby from the beginning of our relationship so I'm not sure how much weight to place on that. Looking in the mirror after a shower, the only time I really see my reflection and something I do, at best, infrequently, I don't see anything that I particularly like or that is particularly feminine.
My beard is a defence mechanism. It is the facial equivalent of peeing on something to declare boundaries. I hide behind it. Not to deny my femininity, nor to accentuate masculinity, it is a fence and a mask. It is a daily equivalent of donning a uniform for my Nazi lesson. It is something I wear to prevent connection and discourage conversation. The bushier and more unkempt it has become the more effectively it does what I want it to do. I also don't own, nor wish to own, an electric razor. My wet shaving routine takes a very long time. My hair is such that it takes a trim with scissors before I can attempt to use a razor anyway, once it reaches a certain length, and I'm much too disorganised and lazy to realistically shave every day.
When I shaved my legs back in 2005 it was nice. If I were to do that more often, though, I would use delapitory cream or else something like Veet. I couldn't maintain a shaving regimen for any length of time. The same goes for my armpits. They itch enough as it is.
Basically I'm saying I have poor body image and no real drive to improve that. I'm still skipping breakfasts and so that would be the best place to start any great drive to feel better. Whilst I would like to get rid of the beard I am also intrigued to see how long I can get it - can I manage a full Karl Marx?
So much for brevity. Still feeling emotionally tender, a bit off-balance. Throwing out old clothes shouldn't have the effect that it has had on me. I kept the denim-effect mini-skirt from Toby though and all the stuff in the rucksack and the stuff squirrelled away in various parts of my wardrobe and the shoes and the boots. Hardly the grand gesture. Tilly hasn't really said anything. She doesn't want to say "thank you" because it seems a bit silly and "well done" would sound patronising. I guess she's right on both counts. Don't know what I want her to say or do really. I was expecting something in return.
We are looking at rehousing our chinchilla though, which I guess is progress. So, if you're in the UK and want a rodent that'll live for another sixteen years let me know.
No images tonight, just a wall of self-serving and despondent text. Sorry.
Words of warning and welcome:
This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.
It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!